Liberry

Off to do my library volunteering this morning, finding the books requested by other libraries in the South Central Library System. I will also get an update on what I need to know for tomorrow's Open House.

Then back to the writing ... Last night I was up to page 234 out of 450. (These are pages formatted for publication, not 8 1/2 X 11 sheets.) My longest book so far, Wicca in Whoville, is less than 400 pages. I hope to trim this thing down to a smaller size than that, and I may go for a slightly smaller -- though still legible -- font as well.

The working title for the novel is The Red Shoe. Here is the opening section that explains the title. (I might mention that not everyone likes this bit.)

The giant red shoe sits in a field about a mile from where we live. Ten or twelve feet high, apparently it is a leftover from some children's park from days gone by. When and why it was moved to its present location, I have been unable to discover. I think it is one of the sights along the riding stable’s trail that winds through the field. Tourists don’t seem to visit the stable much these day, drawn away as they are to the giant water park resorts that spread out along Highway 63. The red shoe is a minor landmark for locals, hardly worth showing to visitors, certainly not important enough to make a special trip but something odd to point out when driving by.

“Why is it there?” people ask. 

Someone must know but Someone hasn’t told me.

In my own way, I identify with the red shoe.

“Why are you here?” people around here sometimes ask.

           “Everyone has to be somewhere,” I used to say, but that only made people wonder even more why I am here.

I didn’t grow up here. I am an anomaly in this setting: a gay man who is now married to his partner of over ten years; a former clergyman; a sometime author, more suited to academia than the local tourist-driven economy.

...